


Everything In Between

by angel_of_broadway



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Clan Lavellan - Freeform, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Existing Relationship, F/M, Relationship Talk, bull likes to talk about sex, bull wants kids and aviselan is kind of terrified, gratuitous use of elvhen, lots of swearing, that's what you get for dating a spy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-09 01:37:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7781842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_of_broadway/pseuds/angel_of_broadway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Corypheus' defeat, Inquisitor Aviselan Lavellan is entirely focused on returning Thedas back to normal and giving the world what it needs, including reuniting with her clan and enjoying at least a little bit of free time with her friends and loved ones. Until a specific loved one decides to turn everything she knows on its head, leading her to decide just what the Inquisitor really needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So. I had originally just planned on this being a one shot and maybe adding a companion piece to it later, buuuut. Best laid plans, am I right? So we're gonna see how this goes. It's also, like, my first time trying to write Bull, so be gentle? But also please tell me if his voice is terrible, because I do so love him and I'd like to make him sound believable. Enjoy!

Aviselan was quite sure she'd never done so much writing in her entire life, and if she hadn't had a good fifteen years of experience with staves, she would have sworn her hands were ready to drop off at the wrists. Following Corypheus' defeat, Josephine was insistent that the Inquisitor herself had to personally write to all of their gained allies, notifying them of the victory and assuring that their alliances wouldn't be forgotten in the coming calm. Signing off on merchant deliveries for the 'official' celebration banquet was one thing; close to one hundred identical letters outlining which group had done what and how they would be compensated was a whole other matter.

Pushing open the door to her quarters, she summoned a low flush of heat to her hands in an attempt to relieve the soreness, wondering just what her Keeper would say about using her magic for such a trivial purpose.

'If only you knew', she thought with a chuckle as she rounded the top of the stairs, delighting in the tuneless hum coming from her desk.

“Didn't think you were going to get up here before the food got cold, Boss,” the Bull greeted her without looking up from the book in his hands.

“I didn't think I was going to either,” she answered, trying to read the title. Unfortunately the lettering was far too looping and intricate to decipher, so she instead swatted at his legs comfortably propped up on top of her desk. “Josephine can be quite the taskmaster when she wants.”

He made a noise of agreement and swung his feet down to the floor, abruptly pulling her down for a firm kiss on the lips that left her tingling. Pulling back a few inches, he pressed a softer kiss to her forehead and said, “Managed to snag you a loaf of that crusty bread you like.”

“Ma serannas, vhenan,” she giggled gratefully, pulling the wooden tray of food toward her and sighing in delight as the smell of stew hit her nose. Let Dorian say what he wanted about the blandness of Fereldan cooking, there were few things in the world that were better than a hot bowl of beef stew. “That looks interesting,” Aviselan commented toward the book, tearing off a chunk of bread to dip into her stew. “Bit of light reading?”

“Something like that,” he answered without explanation, setting it down far enough that she couldn't get a better look, which of course piqued her interest. When he so obviously tried to keep something from her, it was usually because he wanted her to poke her curious little nose into it. “So, what's this I hear from Varric that your clan is coming all the way up here?”

“Hm? Oh! Yes, I had completely forgotten. Well, I've been promising my Keeper that I would at least visit once Corypheus had been defeated, but with all the leftover things to attend to – clearing out the rest of the rogue Templars, reestablishing some of the Orlesian footholds in the Emprise, and all these banquets and parties and –”

“Breathe, kadan,” Bull stopped her with a chuckle, reaching over to squeeze her hand fondly.

Aviselan gave him a bashful grin and slurped down a mouthful of stew. “You can see how hectic things have been. To the point, Josephine suggested that it might just be easier for my clan to come and visit Skyhold. I tried to tell Keeper Deshanna that the trip wouldn't be easy, but she gave me the whole line about 'we've gotten through far more than a trip up the mountains, and don't you dare forget what we've struggled for'.” Had she rolled her golden eyes any harder, they probably would have popped out of her head. “She's always been so dramatic, as far back as I can remember. I think you'll like her.”

“Introducing me to your family, huh? Didn't think you were that serious, kadan, but hey, I'll go for it.” Bull gave a deep belly laugh when she stuck her tongue out and cursed at him in Elvhen. “By the way, I'm curious about something.”

“Yes, Bull, I'm sure you're the only person I've used that electricity trick on.”

“And I still say you're too good at it for that to be true. No, it's something Dalish made me think of.”

“Oh?” Now that caught her interest. Although she saw and talked to Krem a bit more than the other Chargers, she knew how important all of them were to Bull, and getting the perspective of life in another clan had been fascinating. “What's that?”

“Something about your tattoos,” he answered, his thumb brushing absently back and forth across her hand. The carelessly easy motion had her insides turning to mush. “Hadn't seen many elves from an actual clan, and I asked her about them when she first joined up. She didn't really give me much of an answer back then, just said they were for the, what was it, god of secrets?”

“And knowledge,” Aviselan confirmed with an eager nod, suddenly ecstatic at the thought of him being interested in her culture. Not that he had actively spurned talking about it, but since the events of the Temple, she'd been hesitant in trying to bring it up around anyone. “Dirthamen. A traditional choice for a...an archer.”

“So yours represent a different god then.,” the Qunari pointed out, his grin widening with his next comment. “Who's yours, the god of great cooking? Mm, or how great your mouth is, wrapped around – ”

“Ah, no, nothing quite like that,” she quickly stopped him, her cheeks flaming at the thought of such talk in context of her gods. “Sylaise is considered the hearth-keeper, the one who brought the Elvhen fire. Hers is the path of peace, and she is the one we call on and honor for healing and protection.”

“Peace and healing, huh?” He gently traced the branch reaching across her still reddened cheek. “I can see why. It's a choice?”

Aviselan nodded, turning her head to kiss his hand. “All Dalish receive the vallaslin once they come of age, if they're able to endure the ritual. Most will usually take a traditional design, since they're more concerned with the actual process, but there are variations for the more adventurous. Hunters might favor Andruil, our mages more often than not prefer Mythal or, again, Dirthman. My cousin is our war leader's daughter, and she chose Elgar'nan.” Thinking about it, she added, “I believe you'll get along with Dhaveira; you two would have quite the time comparing weapons.”

“She's a fighter?”

“You have no idea. I think Keeper Deshanna actually drugged her drink so she couldn't follow me to Haven,” she sighed. What a fight that had been, when her cousin found out the First would be going without any kind of protection. But that was far in the past now, and hopefully wouldn't get dragged back up when her clan arrived. “If you're so interested, I'm sure my Keeper would be more than happy to answer any questions better than I could. There were still many things I hadn't learned before I left.”

“Huh. Might have to take you up on that. Ol' Dalish never seemed too chatty about –”

Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by the sound of horns, signaling the arrival of a group at the front gates.

“Wonder if that's Krem and the gang back from Redcliffe. Apparently it was Dennet's wife's birthday, and he promised a cask of some really good shit from a tavern up there if they came and helped on the farm,” Bull was saying as he stood up and walked to the balcony to check.

Aviselan barely waited until his back was turned to reach for the book. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the similarly-colored cover and lettering, but when they did, she was taken by surprise. Since when was Bull even remotely interested in raising children? Her heart leaped into her throat with a sudden thought. By the Creators, was he trying to suggest he wanted to–

“Looks like I've got to cut our dinner short tonight,” he called back, and she quickly shoved the book back onto the desk. “Krem will probably have some whole story about squirrels attacking him again.”

“What is it with him and squirrels?” she asked around a mouth of stew, hoping he wouldn't be able to read the realization on her face.

“I think they like his hair. And I don't think you want any of them tramping up here with muddy boots, so I should probably get down there before they get too jumpy.” She had to forcibly keep her eyes down as he reached for the book. “Coming down for a drink later?”

“I've got a few things to arrange with Josephine, but I'll be down as soon as I'm done.”

“See you then, kadan.” A quick kiss on her forehead and he was tromping down the stairs, whistling a merry tune that faded to nothing once he hit the hallway.

It took Aviselan a few moments until she let out a long breath through her teeth, wrapping the end of her braid around her hand anxiously. While she hadn't totally understood the whole meaning behind his necklace, she did believe he was sincere in his promise that they would stay together. What she hadn't counted on was his actually being so ready to take their relationship further. Creators, she wasn't even past her twenty-first birthday!

“Mythal, what does he want me to do with this,” she muttered, tapping her fingers across the top of her desk. He definitely had wanted her to see the book, otherwise he would have never been so obvious. “Do I say something, or...”

With a groan of frustration, she slumped back in the chair and threw a hand over her eyes. What was the phrase, out of the frying pan and into the fire? Defeating an ancient corrupted magister was the easy part; of course it would be her own personal problems that were harder.

 

 


	2. The Dalish Are Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dalish are on their way. The cousins Lavellan reassure themselves that their former First is still herself, but one of them isn't so sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I asked my writing/roleplay buddy if he had any characters I could shove in here (mostly as recompense for constantly nagging him for a response in said roleplaying). He said his elf was, and I quote, "essentially Dragon Age's version of an edge lord" and "basically make him the most obnoxious piece of shit you can XD". That's copied directly from a Skype message. I hope I did him justice, Marcus ol' boy. I tried to cut back on the dialogue like you suggested, but we both know I don't take direction well.

If Dhaveira never ended up seeing the Waking Sea again in her life, it would be too far soon. Late nights setting up camp in a snowstorm? Waking up before dawn to go hunt with her overzealous cousin? Cleaning up after the halla in the middle of summer? All of those, she would prefer a thousand times over compared to riding across the sea.

“It really wasn't that bad,” Nami'lin told her for what had to be the twentieth time, following yet another grumble under her breath about the rocking ship. “If you'd have spent any time on the deck, you could have enjoyed the view.”

“What view? Waves coming up over the ship? Dirty looks from half-drunken sailors? Storms? I don't know what your fascination is with shems, but it's weird,” she huffed, stepping closer to him to avoid a large rock in the road. “You'll probably be in your glory once we get to this fortress, with all the refugees Aviselan says are living there. What do they call the place?”

“Skyhold. Tarasyl'an Te'las,” the redhead answered with a note of wonder in his voice. Hunter though he was, he'd always been one of the more interested children when it came to learning the old stories and legends. “One of her advisers says it used to belong to the Elvhen. Can you even believe she has advisers?”

“You're telling me. I'm more interested to meet this mercenary she keeps talking about in her letters. What kind of name is 'the Iron Bull'?”

“Something to frighten the enemy, probably. At least she says he treat her well.”

They lapsed into an easy silence, their attention focused on the rest of the clan ahead of them. Predictably, there had been quite a bit of discussion (more like outright arguments) when it came to the subject of this journey. Making their way through the Free Marches, the water travel, crossing the still war torn countryside of Ferelden, and then through the mountains up to the fabled fortress that had sheltered the Inquisition when they needed it most. Very few members of the clan had been enthused about the idea – in fact, an unsettling number would have agreed to just forgetting about their former First altogether, for all the trouble the events of Haven had caused. After months without correspondence from the ambassador of the Inquisition, however, a hand-written letter came from Aviselan herself, and Keeper Deshanna effectively ruled out any other arguments.

The timing could have been a little better, Dhaveira thought more than a little bitterly, glancing up at one of the aravels toward the middle of the line. They'd tried to rush the journey, to get there before Celina had her baby, but getting waylaid in Jader for an extra week had heaped more stress on to the pile, and the former city elf had already been in poor health. The young woman was able to hold her baby girl for barely a day, saying she was glad her daughter could at least return to her home country, before buried her. It was only luck that Fisara's second son was still young enough that she could properly care for the babe.

A sharp gust of wind blew past, and the warrior pulled the fur tighter around her neck with a grimace. It would just be Aviselan's luck to find a stronghold up in the most freezing part of the mountains. Knowing they were on the last leg of the journey did ease the icy sting marginally, and her arms still carried a pleasant ache after thwarting the one attempt at an attack by some bandits, but they had yet to see any sign of the Inquisition forces they'd been told would lead them the rest of the way.

“Do you think she's changed?”

Dhaveira was pulled from her thoughts by the soft question, glancing back to see he had stopped and was looking out over the mountains, his bright red hair tossed by the wind. For a moment, she was reminded just how much he resembled his sister, in everything except the dark lines of his vallaslin. When news of the explosion at the Conclave reached them, the whole clan had been shaken, but she realized only then just how much her cousin had to have been affected. Since birth, the twins had held a connection that no one quite understood, finishing each others' sentences and always knowing what the other was thinking. For more than a year, his twin sister had been stranded in a country she barely knew, surrounded by strangers who thought she was responsible for the death of their most holy figure, and thrust into a position of power never thought possible of a Dalish mage.

“Mythal only knows just what she's seen, Templars and Tevinter magisters.” Nami'lin shook his head, turning to watch the slow progression of the clan. He let out a shaky sigh and twisted the wooden ring around his pointer finger, a rare sign of emotions getting the better of him. “She's strong, she always has been. I know that. I just worry...”

“She hasn't forgotten herself. She's the one who chose Sylaise over Mythal, because she said healing and protecting was what she knew. Her faith was strong enough to defend her decision. No matter what's happened, she's still Iselan,” Dhaveira told him emphatically, nodding to herself with conviction. “I'm just hoping she doesn't have a big head from all this Inquisitor business. Did you read the one where she went to some fancy ball? A satin dress, she said, with silk embroidery. I didn't even think there was a difference.”

The solemn look on his face broke, and he rolled his bright eyes at her obvious change in conversation. Subtlety had never been one of her stronger traits, but it at least distracted him from the less pleasant thoughts.

“Soooo, if y'all are done chit-chatting, you wanna get your asses moving? We found the scouts and holy shit, this place is amazing.”

And of course, the mouthy little shit who'd found his way to them from Rivain, who was somehow always getting in to business that didn't involve himself.

“ _Dhava ‘ma masa, Calmor” Dhaveira shot back with a gesture of her hand that had him laughing. “Aren't you supposed to be up at the front anyway? Y'know, actually doing something useful for a change?”_

_“ And stay away from one of my favorite people, lethal'lin?” he gasped in fake outrage, clasping a hand over his heart. “I'd rather throw myself upon my own blade.”_

_“ I'll throw you on a blade, you obnoxious little –”_

_ Reaching back for her great sword was enough of a warning, and he raced back around the curve of the mountain with that grating laugh giving way to the sound of horses and aforementioned scouts just up ahead. Nami'lin actually had the audacity to snicker at their bickering, and she gave him a murderous look before clapping him on the shoulder. _

_“ See? Nothing's changed. Now let's get up there before I finally have to bash his thick skull in.”_

_ His lopsided grin seemed reassured, and he copied her gesture before picking up the pace to join the clan. It took her a few more moments to calm the bone-breaking thud of her heart. Despite him being so easily persuaded otherwise, Dhaveira knew something had to have changed in her now illustrious friend and family member. A soft-spoken, peacekeeping Dalish mage doesn't become the living symbol of some human prophet and gain all that power without some kind of change. She could only hope her dear cousin still held on to the beliefs that brought her into this position in the first place. _

_“ Mythal, grant me the serenity...” the warrior quietly started her mantra, catching up to the rest of the clan. Only the Creators knew just what they were getting themselves into._

 


End file.
